He turns back, looking down at me. “You thought the worst of me when I was thinking I would do something nice.”

“I feel terrible.”

“Because of me. You feel terrible because you thought I would sneak out in the night to get away from you.” Taking the bag, he drops it next to me. “No good deed goes unpunished. Enjoy the muffin.”

He’s about to leave, but I say, “Stay, Harbor, and let’s talk about it.”

When he turns back, the disappointment I felt minutes ago is personified in his eyes. I did that to him. The knot in my stomach pulls tighter. I slide down on the mattress again, and say, “Please.” It may only be a whisper of a request, but it reaches him by the way he drops his head.

As if his willpower is lost in the moment, he moves closer and holds me under my chin. He angles my face upward, and our eyes connect in the morning light. “Don’t grovel or make apologies. Not for me or anyone.” His eyes meet mine in a moment of intention. “You’re not a damsel in distress. You never were. So if someone wants to go, don’t beg them to stay.”

“But I misunderstood—”

“I know, but no one is worth sacrificing your pride.”

“Not even you?”

He sits on the bed beside me. “Especially not me.” With his hand on my knee, he sighs. “I’ve disappointed so many people in my life, but I can’t handle disappointing you, Lark. So if I need to walk away to figure some shit out, you need to let me because I won’t be any good for you otherwise.” His arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me close. Kissing my head, he then tilts down until he can see my eyes again. “I will always come back to you.”

Statements like those that he makes, ones that are definitive when spoken make me believe him. Through his honesty, I find my own power again. I’ll know what to do and what to expect next time.

But a flicker of pain shelters in the depth of his irises, one that doesn’t belong there. I’m not sure if it’s his trust I broke or the thought that I might have lumped him with his past that hurt him more.

Wrapping my arm around his, I lean my head on his shoulder. “Sometimes sorry isn’t a weakness but a strength. It all depends on the intention behind it. I’m sorry for thinking the worst, Harbor.”

He rubs my leg several times and then looks at me. “Don’t worry about it. As I said, I’m used to it.”

“I don’t want you used to it with me, though.” I sit up straighter, feeling the importance of the moment. “I was thrown, but it wasn’t you who caused me to get upset. It’s stuff that I need to work through.” I cover his hand with mine. “I trust you, Harbor.”

“Thank you.” Flipping his hand, I press our palms together on his leg. “Why did you leap to the worst conclusion first?”